


This is My Goodbye

by X_Ray



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-19
Updated: 2013-03-19
Packaged: 2017-12-05 20:40:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/727704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/X_Ray/pseuds/X_Ray
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"What is the saddest way to die?"</p>
<p>"Wounded, in pain, and alone in a dark parking lot, slowly crawling to try and say goodbye to everyone you love… but then dying before you could even get there."</p>
            </blockquote>





	This is My Goodbye

He didn't know he had met his soul mate when he first met him. How could he? It's not like he had a magic watch or a piece of red string attached to his finger. He was just a guy with a flippin' annoying accent and a goofy smile at the time. If he would've known then what he knew now, there would've been a lot that he would've changed. 

When he kissed you, for example, don't chalk it up to alcohol, bad timing, and him being overly affectionate with everyone. Take his face in your hands, make him look at you, tell him to stop apologizing and give him the kiss he deserves. After all, no one was around to see, and it would save them from a lot of awkward office conversations. Not only that, but it would give them about four extra months to be together, and though that didn't seem like much then, Michael was starting to realize how fragile and important every moment really was. 

Another thing. Don't freak out the first time he says, "I love you". He was showing his vulnerability. Freaking out because of previous situations involving Lindsay was not a good way to react. That moment was about Gavin, and them being together. It wasn't a fucking good time to start a fight. And besides, it isn't very hard just admitting you love him too. 

Probably the most important thing he would change would be he would stop taking things for granted, and actually listen to what he was saying, annoying accent and all. When you're six months engaged, and he falls asleep on your shoulder, don't wake him. He was tired. He had been out planning the wedding all day, because he was the most damned charming sap ever. He deserved the rest, and then you'd be able to hold him and admire him (which even then, he realized he didn't do enough of). And when he dies wake up because you've announced you're out of beer, and that was pretty much against the law here in New Jersey, accept his offer to come with you, and listen to his worried that it wasn't safe going alone at this time of night. He's cute when he's concerned, and if only you would've listened, you would've had the rest of your life to tell him that. 

Not that Michael was actively pondering those changes. His life may have been flashing before his eyes, but he'd be fucking damned if he sat back for the show. He was supposed to just be starting his life with his fiancé. He wasn't supposed to die now. Not this way. He refused. He had so much left to live for, like his Brit with the bright smile and infectious laugh. 

Blood, warm, unnerving, sickly clinging and staining skin and cloth. The cool metal of the car against his back served to increase the panic he refused to acknowledge. A shaking hand over his stomach, trying to get the bleeding to stop. A bloody hand on his phone, trying to enter the numbers with fading eyes. Most people, after being mugged and stabbed, would call an ambulance. He needed to hear his voice though. Needed to tell him he loved him finish his wedding vows and tell him to keep smiling long after this, when he was gone and Gavin still had RoosterTeeth and Slow Mo Guys. The dual tone seemed too quiet, almost drowned out by the crescendo cacophony raging in his head. He moved, the world shifted, blood knives ran up his sound. Hard plastic clattered to the ground, and his pair of cadaverous hands clasped around the wound. Adrenalin and conviction dissolved in the pool of blood, and his body gave out, sagging and falling to the cement. 

"Michael, you donut, you forgot your wallet, didn't you? See, I told you this would happen. If you wouldn't have been such an arsehut, you would've listened." He could hear him laughing above the pain. His voice calmed him, relaxed his clenched muscles, stopped the shaking and the cold. He always had an infectious laugh. He could only manage a cough, which felt like unholy guilt, because any moment the other was happy was perfect. 

"Hey, Mi-cool, are you getting sick? Come on, just come back home. You can't get sick over a few beers. We leave for England the day after tomorrow."

The pain returned. 

"Michael?"

He never even got to say goodbye.


End file.
